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Description

Beneath the whispered sighs of cherry bloom,
A geisha stands, in silence, she assumes
The role of spring's own envoy, dressed in dreams,
Her kimono whispers of streams and beams.

Hana, named for the blossoms overhead,
Intricate patterns of life, finely tread,
Flowers and cranes upon her gown do dance,
Capturing hearts in a single, fleeting glance.

With kanzashi that catch the failing light,
She holds the twilight in her gaze so bright.
A fan reveals Mount Fuji, dawn's first blush,
Her story told in every gentle hush.

The golden sun, in setting, paints her world
In hues of pink and dreams around unfurled.
Her smile, a gentle mystery to behold,
Speaks of tales untold, of warmth in cold.

In every step, a grace that time reveres,
A dance that holds the wisdom of the years.
She moves, and with her, move the seasons' tide,
In her, the essence of spring does reside.

A moment caught between the bloom and fall,
Her dance, a bridge over time's vast, endless hall.
Hana, the flower beneath the moon's soft call,
In her, the beauty of the world, enthrall.

So, beneath the cherry blossoms, she dances on,
A fleeting dream, before the moment's gone.
Her story woven in the fabric of the night,
A poem of movement, bathed in fading light.

Description

Beneath the whispered sighs of cherry bloom,
A geisha stands, in silence, she assumes
The role of spring's own envoy, dressed in dreams,
Her kimono whispers of streams and beams.

Hana, named for the blossoms overhead,
Intricate patterns of life, finely tread,
Flowers and cranes upon her gown do dance,
Capturing hearts in a single, fleeting glance.

With kanzashi that catch the failing light,
She holds the twilight in her gaze so bright.
A fan reveals Mount Fuji, dawn's first blush,
Her story told in every gentle hush.

The golden sun, in setting, paints her world
In hues of pink and dreams around unfurled.
Her smile, a gentle mystery to behold,
Speaks of tales untold, of warmth in cold.

In every step, a grace that time reveres,
A dance that holds the wisdom of the years.
She moves, and with her, move the seasons' tide,
In her, the essence of spring does reside.

A moment caught between the bloom and fall,
Her dance, a bridge over time's vast, endless hall.
Hana, the flower beneath the moon's soft call,
In her, the beauty of the world, enthrall.

So, beneath the cherry blossoms, she dances on,
A fleeting dream, before the moment's gone.
Her story woven in the fabric of the night,
A poem of movement, bathed in fading light.